


ghosting

by sonia (aquatulip)



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: DR:AE spoilers, F/F, graveyards, post sdr2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3894937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatulip/pseuds/sonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>graveyards are a place for mourning, a resting place for the dead, and a good place to take a certain princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ghosting

**Author's Note:**

> for fin aa,,
> 
> commissions open @hagakawa.tumblr.com

hesitantly, you reach out and brush your hand across the icy cold stone; seconds fall away from you as you grow older and older within a simple motion. your nails grate against the stone as your eyes rise to look out across the expanse of the area. forests touch at the edge of your gaze, all the vibrant greens are now darkened to macabre greys and blacks. lifting your hand slowly, you let it hang in the air as you depart from the anchor that you’ve built for yourself. the hesitancy in your bones hangs heavy and causes you to move with a delicateness that normally is absent within you. a princess must be fragile, but you have hardened yourself.

a cackle; ravens take flight from their perch and call deep into the silence;  
     you nearly jump out of your skin at the flurried sounds occurring around you: blanketing you.

“ _genocider_ ,” you hiss underneath your breath, but you know that they are near enough to hear you. as a reply, they hiss too from somewhere to your left side. fluttering your eyes, you attempt to make out shapes in the darkness. the clouds heavily cover the sky so that the moon and the stars do not twinkle down upon you; there is no guiding light here. genocider and you are wearing the darkness as it swallows you whole. just as you open your mouth to speak again, genocider screeches into the night: a long laugh that causes flurried reactions across the graveyard as they listen to the sounds of people scrambling to their feet and towards their cars.

you are immediately on them and your face hovers close as you are tempted to warn them of their behavior before you realize that here feels safe. none of those people know what they are running from, but the fact that they are running from genocider syo wears on you as you listen to revving engines in the distance.

     “wonder if we got this place to ourselves yet,” they quirk an eyebrow up; their hands are absent of scissors, so to compensate, their hand gestures are wide and menacing. they take up so much space even within this open area. “we could grave rob, y’know. already scared all them horny teenagers _getting off._ ” and they are doubled over in laughter at the thought of people scrambling to leave as they tug on their clothing or pull up their pants.

but to you, it is as though the words had never left genocider’s mouth and were never transferred to you. before you can register your movements, you stoop low to  press your lips to their forehead, then the dip in their nose, and finally their lips; the kiss is sloppy as always, but warmth floods through your veins as they play just the right chord of your heartstring. you figure this should make your nerves stand on end, but instead you are pleased to be adored so by them. so many people fall over themselves to get close to you, but you twist the fabric of genocider’s uniform and pull your bodies flush--

          and you _crave_ \--

          (as though you have never before because genocider is sharp angles and messy movements; they do not try to give you the world and they are just what you’ve always wanted and needed. with their grasp, you are not treated with fragility. genocider nips at your lips and you are _m e l t i n g_ in their hands.)

     as your nose brushes against theirs and your pale green eyes meet a crimson gaze; they are startled, or at least tripped up by the immediacy of the moment. when you smile, it is one of success and bubbly giddiness. “we aren’t grave robbing,” you say, low, and still with fisted fabric. they chuckle as though that idea shouldn’t have even been entertained, but you both know each other; they know that there is always a possibility that you will say yes to something and completely throw them for a loop. just when they think they have figured you out, you say something and they are back at square one. genocider sighs against your lips, then untangles your hand from their clothes.

“can’t believe it, i spent aaaall this time getting ready for this date and ya don’t even wanna grave rob. i brought shovels and everything,” they cackle, and you know that they had hardly prepared for anything when they showed up at your dorm with their arms crossed and told you that both of you were going on a date. although you’d rather it not be at midnight, you know that genocider does not have much time in the day. everything about genocider’s life is quantifiable: the hours they are in control, their kill count, the amount that their eyes flutter shut and reopen, the number of times they tap their fingers against their thighs and wonder why they decided to leave their scissors at home tonight.

     “maybe some other time,” you play along and move away from them so that the air isn’t so suffocating.

both of you pick back up where you started as you walk down a new path. the cemetery is massive in size and the paths wind down further into a deep darkness that veils you completely. here, you are hidden away from the rest of the world. you fall into step as you chatter about useless things that won’t matter years later. it is just the two of you and the spirits of unfamiliars.

neither of you think you’ll end up here again.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

their fingertips skim along the engraving on the gravestone before them that reads _enoshima junko_ , the stone is already crumbling away from misuse and abuse. “...can’t believe that bimbo started all of this,” genocider snorts, then rolls their eyes. “i’d like to say i expected her to do something like this, but shit i’d probably be lying if i did.” the grave beside hers reads _ikusaba mukuro_ , and you touch your hands to it hesitantly and wonder about the full story -- you wonder why this makeshift cemetery exists: why humans are so strung up on burying the dead and mourning their losses even though no body lays beneath the grass and no person comes to lay flowers on the graves.

          “why mourn the mastermind…?” you whisper, “and her sister…”

“big mak’s a martyr-- or something, i dunno,” their tongue hangs there dejectedly as they move away from enoshima’s grave marker and further into the cemetery. there are people laid to rest here who none of them know, but the body count is so high and the stretch of land seems endless. they are rebuilding the world, but it is taking so much time.

there have been too many losses.

as you and genocider walk, you pass by a collection of gravestones that are all small and packed together. you know them as the reserve course students; you wonder where all the bodies are since they aren’t here. your gaze flits to genocider, then travels back towards enoshima’s grave. it is probably impossible to identify bodies this far along: they rot and stink and decompose. as your thoughts travel down a dark path, genocider is next to you and nearly _skipping_. none of this really affects them.

then they stop abruptly in front of a grave. their face is stoney for a moment, before they shrug and continue on their way. you think about asking them what that had been about, but instead you reach over to take genocider’s hand in your own as you work to keep pace with them. “there’s hifumin,” they burst into a pearl of laughter. “always knew he wasn’t gonna make it.”

you aren’t truly aware of who that is, but your eyes travel over the cookie cutter grave marker that all of them had been given. _maizono sayaka, fujisaki chihiro, ishimaru kiyotaka_ \-- so many of the graves have flowers collected upon them. “who--?” you begin to ask, but genocider is already shrugging in response.

          “big mak probably; he’s pretty down about it all still.” they tell you.  
          and you wonder if they are still down about it too, but you remain quiet.

some of the grass is bent down in front of some graves, meaning that visitors had been there recently; some of the graves look desecrated, mostly out of anger. flowers only adorn select graves, and as you walk alongside genocider, you approach a rather large grave. “orge-chi,” genocider clicks their tongue; there’s a note of sadness in their tone as they slow to a stop.

“it has to be hard,” your eyes watch genocider carefully; they aren’t one to show sorrow often, but in a flash that sadness is gone and they are laughing. “people live to die, y’know. if ya wanna mourn ‘em, then go ahead, but that’s how you’re living now -- living t’die.” they wave their free hand. “this gloomy atmosphere is _totaaaally_ bad, bad, bad. just makes everyone a gloomy grump; bad for your health toooo.” they blow their bangs away from their face and then continue down the path until they are buried in the shadows of trees and unfamiliar names. “y’know we could grave rob,” they say.

          “geno--” you gasp.

your mind is a mess between the simulation, the days that have passed since, and the days that had occurred beforehand. the feeling of despair still makes your fingers itch if you try to think back on your buried past. after joining hope’s peak, your memories are a jumbled mess. “i’ve heard you say that before…” you whisper quietly. both of you have stopped again and your wide eyes implore for genocider to finish connecting the dots so you don’t have to. you still remember the darkness of that night and how it had felt to kiss them.

     “i used to take ya to the cemetery. dancing in the dark and with the spirits or whatever ya liked to do. i don’t know if ya still do, but i don’t have any music, right now, so i don’t know what ya wanna do about that if this is another date.” genocider smiles; there’s a fluttering in your chest. “cemeteries are different once ya know the people in them, i realized, and especially if they aren’t your own victims.”

  
“if they are your own victims though, _hoo_! think of that! a whole graveyard of _gen-o-cider syo’_ s victims!”

 

you chew on your bottom lip before taking a step closer to genocider; around you, they are always a mere glimpse instead of a full picture. there are so many pieces of genocider that fit together to form this enigma. they could laugh at anything, but they also had grown from their time with komaru and the mutual killing event. the reality of the absurd situation sits on their shoulders and even if they try to shake it off, it clings to them desperately. plus everyone else they have been spending time with seems to be drowning in some type of sadness or apathy.

you are never going to be close enough to capture the whole picture of genocider, and you never want to be far enough away to capture it either. when you had moved closer, their face had taken a cloudy, confused look as their tongue lolls there. “it’s been a long time,” you say quietly. you can count your own pounding heartbeats in the distance between your words and genocider’s lips, but you lose track around _fourteen_ when your lips are meeting theirs. they bite your lips and you feel your knees grow weak even though the kiss is sloppy and ungraceful and you can taste a hint of blood. “maybe tomorrow we can dance with our old friends,” you giggle, and genocider quirks an eyebrow as they lean back.

 

      “huh, huh, huh, what’s this? whaaaat’s this? a change of heart? have i won your maidenly heart over?” their laughter rings in your ears as they clutch their stomach. “can’t wait for it; bet hifumin can _kill it_ on the dance floor.” laughter resounds within the cemetery and it feels wrong, but it also sounds _right_. they are able to hold their self together as everyone around them falls apart. (you know that they are trying to repair each other, but none of them react like genocider. none of them are able to stare evenly at these graves and recount memories of these people. this is genocider’s stoney strength shining through, and you admire it: the way they are able to remain _genocider_ even though everything is tripping them up and trying to drag them down to hell.) the crunch of leaves underneath your heel brings you back to reality as you realize that you are being towed out of the cemetery. “better get going before big mak thinks we’ve run off for good.”

“alright,”  
             you say,  
                          “but we should do this again…”

“...or anything. i really enjoy spending my time with you. plus we have time to catch up on if you are not misleading me.” you tell them and lean against them as you both head towards the exit. this is the same path you had followed to enter the cemetery and genocider’s eyes still travel over the same grave, but asahina is kneeling in front of it now and you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach as genocider looks away and tries to make a joke about _something_ , but you can’t hear them because your ears are ringing again as the both of you are expelled from the shadows of the trees and back into the reality of the present. the reality of life and death; the reality of broken hearts, comatose friends, and shaking hands.

even though, you are still happy to have this moment.  
because they don’t heal your wounds, but they make the pain more bearable.

 


End file.
